Vengeance
by DarthGrieve
Summary: A half-angel/half-demon's quest for truth and revenge that takes him on a journey to places beyond space and time.  Author's note: I'm publishing this story 2 chapters at a time alright? Do post your reviews :
1. Chapter 1

**I**

Gaze upon your world… I ask "what do you see?" Perhaps you would answer that you see people, animals, buildings, plants, and all sorts of mundane things. Why so? It is quite a long story. Let us say for now that all you see is the façade of your world. You are looking merely at "the cover". You have no idea of what else lurks within your world other than what you see…or hear, or smell, or taste, or feel. You ask, who am I to say such things…do I see, feel, smell, taste and hear things you cannot? Well, the answer to that I'm afraid, is yes. You see, I am one of those things which you see only through its façade; and no, I am not making a figure of speech…I am saying this quite literally.

Before I elaborate, I would like to introduce myself. My name is Thanatiel. Strange name, is it not? Well I cannot disagree…but it is my real name and I have long since discarded my old identity the moment I discovered that I was not one of you. Now…to explain; and I shall make myself an example. You look at me and see a man, nothing more. Well…maybe one with an inhuman, unearthly beauty to his features. It is something I cannot deny and, forgive me, something I am quite proud of. But still, all you see is a man. All you see is the lie. The truth of my being lies within my eyes. Gaze into them intently and you will know that I am not human like you. Look into my eyes and you see, both literally and figuratively, an unnatural kaleidoscope that constantly fluctuates without any noticeable pattern. They are; however, dark in shade usually, so it takes some effort to notice. Still, I say to you, and to all humans…"Take a closer look".

Like I said, I am not human. I do not even exist in the same way you do. You see, there are other planes of existence out there with all sorts of beings and creatures like me, too complex, too horrible or too subtle for the human psyche to truly comprehend. It just so happens that your plane is unique. This is because every other plane is somehow linked to yours. As a result, many strange things and beings from other planes may cross over. Among those many, many things out there…there is something special about me. Of the innumerable myriad of things out there, I am alone. I am one of a kind.

You see, I do not seem to have a purpose for existing. I am essentially an abomination, a freak of nature. Something which isn't supposed to exist and is against the natural order of things…I am half angel and half demon; the result of a union between two complete opposites. A fruit of something which is never supposed to happen –akin to breeding a hybrid animal, except with far more sensitive ramifications. My mother was a fallen angel and my father who was killed long before I was born was a demon. I only learned that small bit of truth at my mother's deathbed. I never even got to find out what her _real name _was (this being her angelic name). Of whom she was before she was stripped of her identity or anything about my father –except for those facts I mentioned a while ago—nothing. That was all she could tell me before her life ebbed away. I could tell that she wanted to say much, much more but her fading human strength wouldn't permit her any longer. That was nearly one hundred and ninety-five years ago…yet here I am, looking like I have not aged a day above twenty.

Since the time I discovered who and what I truly am, I have encountered all sorts of beings and creatures that have floundered into your plane. Some seek to dominate and make this plane theirs. Some stumble here by mistake. Some would try and escape here from those who hunt them. Some are sent here by a superior from their plane. Finally, some of these beings have come here to destroy me. Why? Like I said, I am not supposed to exist. These beings believe that in destroying me, they are doing a greater service to everything in general. So far, none of these beings have succeeded in doing so…or have survived an encounter with me for that matter.

Seeing as I have had two centuries of life, not to mention an eternity to follow, I've had answers to many of my questions. Questions such as why I am hunted, what I truly am and many, many more. Still, there are a lot of things which I ponder…and unfortunately for me, these seem to be the hardest to answer; who were my parents, of how and why they came together and what my purpose in existence is.

Though those who desire to destroy me would say or think that I have no purpose, I say otherwise. I may be an aberration but I am not stupid. If something were without purpose, why would one even bother anything to do with it? Would they not just leave me be then? Instead all those who know my true identity treat me as a grave threat; the reasons of why I need to find along with the aforementioned questions. Well…needed to find at least. This is because I found some of those answers little over a year ago and that is when this story starts.

One year ago. Prague. It was nine in the evening during the ancient feast of Walpurgisnacht and the smell of all those celebrating both St. Walpurga's birth and the more ancient springtime rituals of the Germanic tribes of old was rife in the air—human or otherwise. I was walking down a dark alleyway and mixed with the scent of religious celebration, the stench of Prague's underworld. Whores, panderers, drug dealers, kidnappers, thieves, gangs and the rest of the vermin that plague every great city's darkest corners…all around me. I slipped past all of them like a ghost. Those that took notice of me seemed to sense that I am not one to be trifled with. Bless them, they spare themselves of what befalls my enemies. Though I am disgusted by their presence, I was not there to punish them. Rather, I was there on my personal quest for the truth.

I was wandering then during that night because of all the nights of the year, Walpurgisnacht is most special. This is one of the two occasions every year, the other being Halloween or The Feast of Samhain, where pure-blooded demons and angels are allowed to wander freely on this plane without any inhibitions to their abilities. They are otherwise bound by eldritch laws which inhibit their full abilities; the most potent of which is that if they stay for too long on this plane, they will eventually fade away from existence. This they fear because _they_ have no afterlife. No hope at all. I have seen it myself during some of my encounters with minor "pure blooded" vassals of both races. Perhaps that is the price they must pay for their extraordinary powers which are above most other beings. Lesser otherworldly beings are free to go as they wish unlike the aforementioned races for most of the year. Strangely, I am not affected by these rules despite my heritage. I can come and go as I please to any plane at any time(though not without substantial difficulty). I have preference for this plane, though, since I have gotten used to and have come to appreciate the unique beauty that this plane has.

I was not merely having a pleasant nighttime stroll there; instead I was, believe it or not, searching for an angel or demon who wished to destroy me. Only pure bloods know my true origin you see. They are the only ones permitted by the most superior of their kind to know. They treat half humans with less trust—and in half demons' cases much abuse. Speaking of angels and demons, you might ask how a human can distinguish a demon or angel from a human. Well, unfortunately for you, their transcendent natures make them all but imperceptible, quite literally, to human senses. To see or sense them, they have to assume a disguise which can be perceived by the ordinary human mind and even then, the differences are very subtle. Even the phenomena they produce are masked from the human psyche. Say, if a pure-blooded angel without a human guise were whispering in your ear right now, you would believe it's your conscience speaking to you; you would not feel the angel's weight leaning on you nor would you be blinded by the light which constantly radiates from angelkind.

Ah… where were we, how indeed for a human to know… I say, look at their eyes. Their color and structure betrays what they really are. A pure blood demon in human guise would have deep red or yellow irises with slit shaped pupils. A pure blood angel on the other hand has pupil-less, shimmering deep blue or silver irises. These are still hard to distinguish as pure-bloods prefer to be discreet and not look true humans straight in the eyes; also, the colors of their eyes are so deep a shade, they are nearly black and so provide a convincing illusion. Other than those, they are absolutely indistinguishable from ordinary humans; unless they choose to reveal any extra appendages they might have—or their true forms.

As for half breeds, they are easier to spot; for one thing, their forms can be perceived by the human mind and so, can be perceived by your senses by default; the aforementioned eyes are there and their physical appearance and personalities can give a clue. A half angel tends to have an unusual white pallor to their features which makes it seem that their skin is made of some stately rock, and have benevolent, if rather stoic, personas. Half demons have an unhealthy looking yellowish or greenish pallor to their skin and have snide or sometimes seductive personalities. That is how humans can distinguish "who's a fake." For beings such as myself though, who can "see beyond sight" among other things, can readily tell immediately "who is," and "who isn't."

Moving on... I was looking for beings which hunted me. I found some as I was walking by the an old church. Five Scavengers were skulking on a nearby alley; I could hear their muttering to each other about where I could be in this accursed place. I have this strange (because even I am baffled by its power) innate ability that somehow cloaks my presence from they who hunt me; they do not recognize me readily as I do them, or each other. Perhaps it is because I am unique. I could've easily walked on by those idiots and leave them without a clue but my thirst for the truth compelled me that I must capture one of them. Scavengers after all may be among the lower ranking demon minions, but they are pure bloods. As pure bloods, _they_ would know something important at least. If I were to capture one though, then the rest will have to die.

It's not easy to destroy an angel or a demon. Venial injuries like cuts would heal instantly. Even if we (yes, we…_I_, after all, am spawn of both breeds) were completely disintegrated, physically I mean, we would reform as if nothing had happened. We also have a myriad of supernatural powers which fall outside regeneration. There's too much to say…but within that category fall the following powers which are ubiquitous to both races, myself included: various degrees of supernatural strength, durability, speed and reflexes and imperceptibility to the human mind; many kinds of extra appendages such as wings or tentacles (which are more diverse in demonkind as angels almost always have wings only); telepathy of various kinds and degrees; affinities with a myriad of elements; the ability to become invisible; glossolalia; empathy; and of course, the ability to shapeshift to various many guises. These are just the common ones and the more unique abilities are far too numerous to tell here. Even without those, I must say that the common powers are certainly more than enough for any human to handle. Were a human to try and attack me with so much as a bazooka I would laugh and let him shoot me. It wouldn't do any harm to me at all. I would merely reform in a blink of an eye.

I turned invisible and began to walk towards them. When I was around 10 feet away, I could tell that they could sense my presence; members of demonkind tend to have an unparalleled sense of smell after all. I saw them sniffing the air and muttering to one another, "Something is here" and began to fan out trying to find where the smell was coming from.

I merely kept my ground and stood invisibly; silently contemplating their thoughts and waiting for one of them to get within my reach. At last, one of the idiots strode by my side and, still invisible; I wrapped my left arm around his neck and after quickly imbibing my right hand with angelic energy, slit his throat. The demon burst into green flames immediately and started screaming in agony. I intended for that to happen. I wanted the fools to go to where I stood, where I can easily dispatch them one at a time.

By the time the rest of the Scavengers got to that particular alley their comrade was dead; liquefying and at the same time being immolated by angelic fire. Being invisible, they couldn't see me. I guess either they hadn't got the brains to switch to transcendent sight or haven't got the ability to do so.

I was standing right beside the hideous, disintegrating corpse which they were then staring at, watching their evey move. On the face of one demon, I could see fear. I smirked at that thought. How ironic…

The smell of uncertainty was mixing in with the stench of the dead demon beside me. I could tell. I could read their minds after all. They fanned out again, though this time, within the alley's perimeter only. It was there that I decided to move and finish this sad charade. I killed them all except the leader. It was ridiculously easy. They never knew what hit them until it was too late. True, the last one to die made a bit of a struggle and spat caustic saliva on my face, but it did little more than buy him a minute or so before I recovered and made him explode with a thought. The leader went running back into the alley and saw me after I destroyed his last lackey. When the brute saw my face, rage broke out on his. He bared his lengthening, sharpening teeth at me and the fool started to grow in size, perhaps thinking bigger was better. When the demon was through turning into his true form, he was a hideous sight to behold; the beast in front of me was around ten feet tall and humanoid in shape, only grotesquely misshapen. The demon was hairless, with skin that was sickly reddish-purple in color and covered in pulsating growths and veins. It had a robust, muscular body with sharp claws as long as bananas at the tips of its twisted, overlong limbs and a rather lupine skull with long pointed ears with one, protuberant yellow eye on top, twelve inch fangs and a long, spiny tongue that salivated profusely.

I sighed in exasperation. _As if that would scare me_, I thought. I've seen far uglier creatures than the drooling, snarling beast in front of me and thought best that I better get on with it. The demon curled up, and leapt at me with claws and jaws at the ready. With superhuman speed, I easily sidestepped the cumbersome fool's leap. He then started to claw at me with a speed and strength that would shred any ordinary mortal.

It was sad. No subtlety, no finesse and so, utterly predictable. With the same ease as I had avoiding his first attack, I did so with every strike so that the clawed hands—and the lashing thorny tongue—missed me dismally. Though I enjoyed watching this disgusting fool trying to dispatch me, I decided to end it. I grabbed the monster's wrists as he tried to strike, twisted them and tore both forearms off at the elbows. Before the demon could regenerate, I grabbed the bleeding arm-stumps with hands charged with angelic magic and effectively cauterized them, rendering their regeneration impossible. The demon raised his burnt arm-stumps and howled in agony but I didn't have time to relish it. Grabbing the beast by the jaws, I slammed the Scavenger to the ground with force so hard that the concrete shattered. I then conjured magical chains to hold the bastard and force him back to human shape. I wanted the chance to interrogate him, you see. I could've watched my quarry struggle all night within those chains—they caused demons incredible pain; both physically and mentally— as he reverted back into a powerless human form. The enchantments in the chain and the agony they caused were usually enough to squeeze the truth out amongst the weaker members of both races…The sad bastard flailing and screeching in front of me was one such weakling. I could have finished him off there and then but it was possible he had something that I needed …and so, I began questioning the demon.

"Demon, state your name and who sent you."

"Halphas—Lord Surtr—"

"I see…Surtr, the Lord of the 9th Circle of Hell? I assume your masters taught you some of my history?"

"Yes— but—I—will—never—tell—you!"

I was surprised by this, no lower rank demon or angel had ever resisted my power before.

So I decided to turn the pain up a notch. Another thought and the chains that bound Halphas burnt bright with the heat of angelic energy, not enough to burn the brute to oblivion but more than enough to provide motivation.

"You were saying?"

"NEVER!"

Another notch I believed…

"Yes?"

"NO!"

I was beginning to tire of that ridiculous banter…no again? Alright, more pain…more…and more…and…

"ALRIGHT! I WILL TELL YOU WHAT I KNOW! PLEASE! NO MORE!"

**II**

I felt elated the next morning. The truth I tortured out of Halphas was limited; most of which I already knew, but quite important in itself. You shall learn what he told me in time. I wouldn't want to spoil the suspense. You humans after all enjoy the anticipation more than the news itself...I won't tell you outright, instead, I'll let you follow along as I please. It'll help build the tension. Ah…where was I? Oh yes…I felt good. As I ate my breakfast—a human breakfast of _pringa_ and a cup of tea, (Yes, I do enjoy human food. It is one of the truly great luxuries of your world in my perspective and I love Spanish dishes in particular seeing as I lived out my "human" life in Andalusia) I recalled the truth that I squeezed out of the demon—it gave me "thrills and chills" so to speak. I knew now where to go, who to find and if necessary—kill—to find out the real story behind my parents' identities and how they, two mortal enemies, could consort and bear a child.

Of course, I wouldn't be doing it with Halphas' help. The pitiful bastard was already fading away anyway…I guess his own reluctance to speak, combined with the sheer power and pain I induced was too much even for a brutish demon like himself. Oh, if there is something I truly hate—no—despise, it is a traitorous coward. The brute which only moments then had all intent to kill or maim or capture me was then bound, bleeding, sniveling and offering all sorts of shallow deals to me. Imagine…a demon of hell, reduced then to this tangled, pained mass, literally begging me at my feet for his pathetic life.

If he had done otherwise and kept the same defiant stand he did only moments before then, I would've probably let him go with only a word of warning. Alas…the ferocity was only farce and here I see the face…that this demon and his ilk…vectors of discord and fear were themselves victims to their own plague. That made it even more pathetic. As I've said, I detest cowardice. I also hate having my shoes dirtied—call me vain, but I've always been for elegance and cleanliness—then there was this coward, dirtying my leather boots…my favorite pair of shoes…ah, such revulsion rose up in me! I guess he saw the fires of damnation within my eyes while that ran through my mind; he fumbled with my ankle with what was left of his arms, see, and wailed even louder, yelling "PLEASE! MERCY!" I curled my upper lip with disgust and shook my leg away from Halphas' burnt-bleeding stumps, leaving him kneeling and bound there, terrified stiff._ Pathetic…_I thought, and with that, I sealed his fate. I began to channel within the chains that bound the sniveling demon with more angelic energy. Not enough to instantly incinerate minor demons, but just right to give them a lasting and particularly excruciating doom. Halphas, I guess, had that same thought as he struggled like a mad dog against his chains for a moment. When the chains binding him released the surge of angelic magic, they shone white hot and the demon they held exploded into a bright green inferno. Ah, I remember the beast writhing and screaming in purest agony as I watched with satisfaction. He endured around fifteen minutes of greatest pain until finally, the demon known as Halphas was then a burning, disintegrating mass from which a sickening yellow fluid flowed forth.

I was saying…After my reminiscing of the past night's events and finishing my breakfast at the same time, I decided to get a last taste of my favorite drink before I set out on my journey of truth and vengeance.

"Pane vrchní, máte jakékoli absint,?" _Waiter, do you have any absinthe?_

"Ano, pane. Český nebo Verte,?" _Yes, sir. Bohemian or Verte?_

"Verte, prosím," _Verte, please._

"Jistě," _Of course._

As I drank the Verte absinthe, savoring its taste, I breathed deeply. I would miss the comforts here in Prague…but alas, there was work to be done…much work indeed.


	2. Chapter 2

**III**

It had been three months. I had made my way across the Czech Republic to Slovakia. From there, I continued southeast, passing through northern Hungary into Romania. I was in the Transylvanian Plateau deep within the cold wilderness of the Carpathian Mountains. It seems rather foolish to answer, but just to clarify some thoughts you might have been thinking, I was not looking for Count Dracula whose castle was in these mountains. The Count was killed in the late nineteenth century after all—yes, Bram Stoker's tale is true—a romanticized report of what had happened then so to speak. But no, I am not looking for vampires. I am instead, searching for a city deep within these mountains. It sounds farfetched does it not? But yes, there is a city here. Not of humans of course; these beautiful mountains are extremely dangerous for ordinary humans to inhabit and most of the area is still uncharted.

The city which I talk about is the ancient, eldritch city of Ammanar. You wouldn't know about it of course. Ah, such is humanity; so naïve and ignorant of the truth. You are but blind fools bumbling in the dark, made worse as you don't even realize it. Do not mistake me, I do not insult, I am merely being frank. It is pitiful that mankind doesn't know the truth under their noses, but it may be for the best. After all…you can't live in fear.

Where was I? Oh yes…Ammanar. I shall enlighten you with a bit of history…Ammanar was the one of the first cities ever created by Earthlings(there have been cities more ancient than Ammanar but most were built by extraterrestrial beings). It was built over 100,000 years ago sometime in the Lower Paleolithic by one of the first intelligent mortal races on this planet, the Elves. They already had achieved sentience and a technologically/magically advanced society whereas humanity was still evolving into its modern form. The elven clans, once separate, were united around that time by their first and greatest emperor, Amman. With the elven clans united under his rule, Amman decided to do something—revolutionary—at least for his time; something that would portray his power and the unity of his people to any who gaze upon it. After much contemplation, Emperor Amman spoke to his people about his dreams. The emperor wished to build a community larger and more sophisticated than any before, one that would speak of the unity and strength of his empire through mere sight; and so, Ammanar was born.

Construction took over three decades, but when it was done, Ammanar was a sight to behold. The city took so long to build even with magical aid because the elves didn't just build the city on the mountains, they built the city_ within _them. The semi-underground city was fifty miles long, running through many of the mountains there in the Carpathians, with entrances in various scattered points, and for security, were enchanted to be invisible to all but those who had the gift of transcendent sight. Even then, it is quite hard to find, even for those like myself due to the sheer ruggedness of the landscape. After all, I traveled only by foot and occasionally by wing (my wings of course), trying to find whatever entrance there was to Ammanar.

After two weeks of fruitless labor, much cursing and a few run-ins into wolves, bears, some vampires and a troop of trolls, I finally discovered one such entrance near the peak of a particularly high mountain in the region, cleverly disguised as a solid rock face. When I made my way through the entrance and through the motley crowd of elves, trolls, kobolds, and a myriad of other beings humans believe as myths, I paused and gazed at the cathedral like hall before me; scanning the stalls that lined every nook and cranny, the walls, the ceiling and even the floor. I couldn't help but be in wonder of just how skilled the elven builders were. What sort of hands could build such awesome feats of architecture? As I look upon the masterfully carved and engineered frescoes, glyphs and facades, I could have honestly said that those would put the great constructs of Golden Age Greece and Rome to shame. The elven statues of marble, granite and obsidian were so lifelike that if Michelangelo himself were to gaze on them, he would do them the same as his _Moses_; striking them with a hammer and demanding that they speak to him.

Ah, but for all their glory, the Golden Age of the Elves has been long dead. They are now merely remnants of what was once the most powerful and expansive empire in the world. The many scars and burns gouged on some of the magnificent carved facades are grim reminders of their fall. Would you like to find out how these once mighty beings fell from grace? Of course you do. You need not even have to tell me. Ah, where do I start…Around twelve thousand years ago, during the Ice Ages, the elven empire had had ninety millennia to expand; and expand they did through their sorcery and technology. From their origins here in Eastern Europe, they spread throughout the world; colonizing every continent including Antarctica. Ammanar remained their capital and grandest city of course and it was here that the elven Emperors sat their power. The other elven colonies were ruled by the Myr'nai; akin to governors who served as the Emperor's lieutenants. Also, as a footnote, modern humans were enslaved by the elves at some point within those ninety thousand years after the elven biomancers accidentally inbred Neanderthals to extinction. It was this enslavement which caused the "Dawn of (human) Civilization" to come so late in history considering that _Homo Sapiens_ has been in existence for over two hundred thousand years. One has to ask after all, why is it only five thousand years ago that (human) civilization suddenly blossomed?

As they say…power is a dangerous thing…after ninety thousand years of colonizing and exercising their reign over the world, that power began to corrupt the elves; the Myr'nai began to conspire against themselves and the Emperors, amassing individual armies, assassinating rivals, bribing, and many more crimes were made & threatened to bring a system of power based on trust crashing down. Eventually, the internal strife within the Elven Empire erupted into the most destructive civil war in Earth's history. Have you ever wondered why the Ice Ages ended? It was because of a powerful magical superweapon developed around ten thousand years ago on an island off the coast of Bermuda by the Tl'yri; a particularly ambitious elven colony that sought to dominate the shattered elven empire. Their superweapon warped time and space through magic and thus, caused gravitational disturbances at the regions at which it was aimed. (a la the effect of a controlled micro black hole). This superweapon obliterated entire enemy colonies for two centuries until it was sabotaged by enemy spies.

The weapon malfunctioned and was seemingly destroyed in a cataclysmic implosion which shattered the once solid island and annihilated everything on it. The gravitational backlash from the implosion was so great that it also caused a shift in the planet's orbit, causing a sudden rise in global temperature and thus, ending the last Ice Age. Curiously, the space-time continuum in that region remained shattered after nearly ten thousand years, occasionally causing sudden immense gravitational fluxes and time slips...hence the Bermuda Triangle's infamous reputation for unexplained phenomena and disappearances. Still, the war continued to rage despite the global realignment and the mighty superweapon's destruction. After five thousand more years of bloodshed, entire colonies were razed to oblivion, millions of elves were killed and the environmental chaos their magical war caused had completely changed the face of the planet.

At that point, only around twenty percent of the original elven colonies were left standing and all of which were left shattered in some way. Many of these were abandoned shortly after. Ammanar was one of the few elven settlements standing relatively untouched.

Inadvertently, the fall of the elves caused a turning point in human history; the humans, sensing weakness, began to whisper against their captors. Out of fear and because the elves were still reaping the whirlwind of their disastrous war, they could do nothing but to free humanity from shackles lest the humans unite and exterminate what was left of the elves.

History teaches us that for one civilization to rise, one must be destroyed. Humanity is none the exception. Their newfound freedom from the elves' magical grasp gave them the opportunity to take the world for their own. Once forbidden to write or to use complex tools, the humans took to their advantage the knowledge of their former captors: the sciences, written languages, agriculture, mathematics and all other forms of arts and professions. Also, their faster breeding rate helped in the diaspora of humanity. It was at that point in time where humanity started to prosper. From the land between the Euphrates and Tigris Rivers, rose the first true star of humanity's own Golden Age; the first complex human civilization, Sumer. From there, the rest…is human history.

As for the elves, unlike humanity which tends to repeat mistakes, they remember all their past faults as a race. They came to realize that such power was never meant for them to wield and so, decided to remain in secrecy forevermore, as many of the glyphs inscribed on the stone walls of Ammanar would attest. Of course, humanity still held memories of the Great Elven War and based their myths, legends and deities from the various characters and events from the ruin that spawned their dawn. At least now, you need not ponder why mythological stories from different cultures seem to have some connection to each other…now at least you know why.

Hmmm…perhaps now you ponder where angels and demons fall in this story…think! Where do you think the elves got their extraordinary gifts and wisdom from? It was given to them of course…more of a test if anything….a test whether a mortal race could do something productive with such power. In the end, the angels were appalled at what they've done while the demons…the demons…well, they were pleased I guess, seeing as they revel in pain, bloodlust and anarchy. I believe they played a part in destabilizing the elven culture; after all, the smallest of whispers from a demon can turn nearly any good heart into a twisted shadow of its former self…They probably got bored from seeing the elves being so successful and decided to have…a little _fun._

Enough of elven history, I say, and back to _my_ story. Now…are you thinking of what I am doing in the most ancient of all elven cities? If you are, then good; I shall answer you. Halphas, despicable, cowardly creature he may be, told me a very important nugget of information…apparently, there is a half-demon here, posing as a merchant and enjoying the _good_ life…this half breed, I've been told, possesses a scroll that contains a personal account of _my_ parents early histories; the story of what had happened between them and how I came to exist.

After my momentary admiration of the elven architecture, I walked through the great city with haste, not caring whom I pass nor of what they thought of me. I can only have an idea now of what those beings must've thought—they might've mistaken me for a supernaturally blessed human because like I said, Ammanar has never been seen nor discovered by normal humans—the only information comes from stories passed down over the centuries. This is because the elves are ferociously protective of their historical records and relics, taking care of them with such reverence it borders on worship. I believe they do so because it reminds them of the time when they once were the rulers of the globe. Those memories are all they have now to remind them of their former glory after all.

**IV**

As I was saying, I was fully focused on finding the half demon who possessed that scroll. I spent three days traversing nearly every nook and corner of Ammanar—I could not use my telepathic abilities safely here, lest I reveal myself to those who are psychically perceptive. There _may_ be angels and demons here in disguise after all, waiting to see whether I am who I truly am and then strike when I least expect it. The sheer size of Ammanar was itself a hindrance. Every stall, shop and dwelling I thoroughly looked at-and within (which took no more than five seconds usually-an advantage of being supernaturally fast and of having transcendent sight) so far, disappointed me. At last, during the third day, I struck gold. The half demon lived in an extravagant but well hidden villa reachable only by an ingeniously disguised magic door. I managed to spot it because of my aforementioned transcendent sight which allows me to see things and forces that most mortals have no idea of. I turned invisible and intangible and passed right through the magic door. I sensed the protective enchantments working, alerting those inside of my presence. It was no surprise…a demon's/angel's earthly dwelling usually has some kind of alarm against intruders. Nevertheless, my inherent superior arcane powers saved me from the worst and did not trap, render me visible or disable me in any way for that matter.

Still invisible, I took a moment's glance and looked at the villa's spacious courtyard. To me, it looked like a diminutive version of Petra, only that it had exotic non-human furnishings and was reeking with the unmistakable stench of demon. Belial, the demonic half breed I sought, had apparently been smart enough to choose a very promising and secret location to keep himself from those who wished to find him-as well as a lot of well paid and skilled guards to protect him if need be. Halphas told me that this Belial had thrived here for over four hundred and sixty nine years living off a sick diet of cheating, backstabbing, theft, bribery and murder. After nearly five hundred years, he had become a most successful (if treacherous) businessman, now retired and living on his accumulated riches and enjoying a life of sin, sex and carnal pleasures in his secret villa within Ammanar.

After my short appreciation of the place, I moved then with deliberation. They knew I was there by then. I made my way through the numerous rooms, silently slaughtering every being I came by. I couldn't take risks of anyone revealing my presence. This demon proved to me that he is a cunning and slippery bastard, I don't wish to put that to the test and let him escape my clutches when he is already within my reach…it would be embarrassing at the very least and at worst, Belial would probably run off to his masters and blabber at their feet. Those lords would then send more idiots to try and apprehend me while this filthy half demon continues his sick stay on this plane hiding in another one of his holes, laughing at my misfortune. My journey to the Carpathians would become completely impertinent if Belial managed to escape. That is why I made sure _nothing_ went wrong…surely enough, nothing did… so far.

Ah…I would have loved to prolong the suffering of all those bleak souls whom I slaughtered on my search for Belial's living quarters. My gift of empathy allows me to know if a soul had been on an evil or a good track in life—when I took in their… "hearts, " shall we say, I saw nothing but evil festering within. The villa was filled with them, the foulest vermin in Ammanar; murderers, blackmailers, rapists, panderers, thieves, prostitutes and all sorts of sickening trash from every race imaginable. Ah…the place reeked with the stench of sin…as you probably well know by now; I revel in spilling evil blood. I drink it with relish and love to see the evil from them purged the same way their blood would flow as crimson rivers upon the ground…but alas, I, like a vengeful wraith, was swift and silent…speedily gutting their bodies, burning them in magic chains or pikes, or simply slitting their throats with my bare hands—whether it be elf, ghoul, demon, gnoll, ogre, troll, half human, and so much others…I didn't really care whom or how I killed at that time…I was forced to do so because of time and the fact that Belial, it seemed, had a reputation for being good at running and hiding.

And so, I culled every living soul I encountered—save for those in the living quarters. In doing so, I made a bloody mess—yes, quite literally bloody. It wasn't a pleasant sight to behold after I was through with those in a room—to give you an idea I ask, have ever seen the inside of a slaughterhouse? Imagine the carcasses of gutted livestock, hanging there on great hooks with the ripening smell of death and rot hanging all over them. The rooms looked and smelled like that scene except fifty times messier and smellier…I remember closing my nostrils halfway across the complex; the atrocious smell of burnt flesh, spilled blood and all manner of bodily effluences was unbearable even for me. So I slew more, and more…and more…until I reached the place which I was looking for.

The dining room was, like the rest of the rooms in the villa (except Belial's quarters), littered with the corpses and splattered with the blood of the creatures that the half demon sought as guards and patrons—Vampires, trolls, elves, mermen, wraiths, demons and plenty more dead bodies littered the floor. (except those of some whose bodies disintegrated in some way after they have been killed.) Belial's living quarters, it turned out, were located behind the villa's exquisite dining room, at the very most hidden part of the vast cave.

Stepping carefully over the wasted carcasses so as not to put filth on my boots, I came upon the heavy, enchanted iron door that was the entrance to the half breed's keep. I thought for a moment whether or not to turn intangible and proceed to kill everything inside (except Belial) like a hellbent ghost. I decided not to. After all, where's the fun in that? Where's the artfulness, where's the finesse? To smite like I did earlier was to have no style…no charm…after all, everything is an art and must be executed with utmost precision and eloquence…yes, even killing. To kill one's enemies outright without savoring their blood is like eating fine food without appreciating the taste. You merely gulp it down and not take an ounce of the delicious pleasure that it offers.

It is most uncivilized and a repulsive idea to one such as myself. I would kill like that only if situation forces me, like what time made me do with Halphas' moronic band and the patrons of Belial's villa. But here…Belial was trapped like a rat. His hidey-hole had only one way out and it was through this great hunk of metal I was staring at (I could tell using transcendent sight), no less. There was no real danger in there…the guards inside were bigger, yes…but when it came to tact or arcane power…ah…they lacked so spectacularly in both quantity and quality. It would take only a pathetic fraction of effort…and because that location was well hidden and magically guarded against most outside surveillance, I did not need to keep my presence hidden once things…had been taken care of. I wanted an entrance with a bang, you see. Sure enough, something came to me…something not just with flair…something…_inspired_.

Inside Belial's living quarters, I presume Belial and his companions were filled with shock and fear as I slammed my fist repeatedly on the great iron door…I did so with such force that the metal, though made even stronger by magical means, was dented every time I hit it. I could almost smell their fear…soon enough I need not just revel in anticipation, but also revel in the action itself…

A few more hits…yes! The ravaged door blew from its hinges and revealed the inside of the spacious room.

After staring at their dumbfounded facial expressions, I could have almost laughed out loud…the troll guards in particular were especially entertaining…just when I thought trolls couldn't look any more stupid, here was proof they could…but who could blame them? If your door suddenly exploded and you see nothing in the doorway, I believe you would be shocked. Yes, I turned invisible…and just to make sure, since some of Belial's cronies may have had transcendent sight, I leapt and stuck like a spider to the room's airy ceiling immediately after the door blew open.

While they were transfixed with both curiosity and fear, I made my way along the roof to the corner where Belial's massive bed was…The half breed was there, his face full of anxiety and clutching a blanket; there were two naked elven prostitutes sitting beside him, crying and ashen faced. I would spare them if only circumstances permitted…but there was too much to lose here and so much to gain as well…there would be no exceptions. Like before, if I am to subdue one, the rest will have to be slaughtered.

The gift of enhanced hearing can be so enthralling to have at times…and that was one of those times. As I walked invisibly along the ceiling to the bed, I could hear every word spoken in the cavernous room. I began to smile as words of doubt, uncertainty and above all, fear, were exchanged by those in the room. The elven whores were crying hysterically, embracing each other, tears flowing like pearly rivers on their long white-blonde hair…it would be a shame to kill the beautiful things. Ah, but necessity over nature must be practiced…if the situation calls for it, I would grant them a quick and painless death—yet even that will have some effect on my conscience…which is more than I could say about the pleasure that killing Belial will give me.

Belial, himself, gave the say-so for my entrance—the fool blurted out in his snide rasp of a voice,

"Wh…what is it?" With that, I lowered myself right in front of his face, turned visible and said—just for the fun of it— "Boo." My entrance could not have been more dynamic—the guards double-took out of disbelief, the elven women screamed shrilly and Belial let out a comical screech of terror. The slimy bastard then fell off his own bed and got entangled in his bed sheets…what a pity. I righted myself and looked the guards straight into their eyes. The fool, finally disentangling himself from the bedsheets and revealed him to have worn a robe that covered only his lower body, took to screaming orders at his guards, "KILL HIM! KILL HIM! DON'T LET HIM GET AWAY!"

Kill me? Don't let me get away? I never did know if Belial was delirious out of panic or was plain stupider than I thought at that time, but it seemed to me that he missed the very point of why I had come to his villa. I did not seek to be destroyed nor did I even wish to escape—as for his guards killing me, the idea was laughable. His guards may have stood a chance against mortal invaders but to a being such as myself…

I conjured a sword out of nothing and started to do battle then with the guards—I didn't bother to kill them outright, like I said, where's the fun in that? Besides, the sword which I had created was imbibed with, and literally was, glowing with angelic energy—more than enough for both mortal and demonic guards to handle if they are hit in a vital area. The guards were armed with a menagerie of weapons—two exotic polearms, a hooked sword, a strange variety of knuckle duster, three of a peculiar kind of mace or hammer and what might've been a particularly long, serrated, scythe.

They flourished, stabbed, slashed and all manner of brutish movements one needs to use in fighting an enemy—I parried each jab, blocked each blow and avoided every smash with near-effortlessness. As the idiotic guards continued to advance on me, in a corner of my mind, I thought, why do they send morons if they want to destroy me? Little did I know then, I would find the answer to that question soon…but more of that later.

Ah, where was I? Oh yes, I was fighting Belial's cronies…none of them really stood in my way, no…I had come too far and come too close to my goal to lose it then. Until that decision, I had merely been playing them for fools—then I got serious. There were nine guards in the room; two were demons, one was a vampire, three were trolls, one was a ghoul and two were elves. They attacked me as one but I slaughtered them methodically. I slayed the ghoul first—the ghoul attacked me with his clawed knuckle dusters, brandishing them with ridiculous acrobatics and screeching like some rabid bat—I, on the other hand, silently dispatched him by slicing his head off with one smooth swish. As the ghoul's wasted form flopped onto the floor; the vampire and the two elves came next, slashing at me with their halberds and the vampire with his sword all the while screaming themselves hoarse.

When they struck as one, I parried all of their weapons with my left hand and disemboweled them with the glowing sword in my right; all with the same lame effort I exuded in decapitating their ghoul companion. Call me morbid, but I found the shocked expressions on their dead faces amusing. When they saw the bisected, smoldering corpses at my feet, the remaining five guards charged towards me, bellowing with mingled fury and blind fear…and like before, it was absolutely pitiful…but I didn't waste any time for my personal pleasure at that point and killed them outright–in around two minutes their dead—and dismembered bodies littered the floor. Lifeless arms, torsos, heads and all manner of appendages and organs were left charred and splayed where the warriors once stood just moments before.

I then teleported to the doorway where Belial was about to usher his two whores for their escape…you didn't think I kept an eye on him did you? But yes, throughout the fight with the guards I had been watching his every move and no, I thought, this time Belial the half demon won't escape. Just when I thought Belial couldn't get any more cowardly, he proved me wrong. The filthy half breed threw the two elven women at me with force enough to smash me into the dining room wall opposite the door.

It did not hurt me at the very least, but it did buy him time to scamper. The poor elven beauties unfortunately, were not as resilient as I, and had their skulls crushed on impact. As their bodies began to dematerialize into glittery mist, I laid them down on the marble floor as tenderly as I could. They did not deserve to die and I despise it so when beauty is destroyed—my momentary feeling of emptiness was replaced by a savage urge to catch and torture and kill the slimy coward at that point. There was no time to waste…he could not have had gotten far…

There's no point in hiding who I was then since the slippery half breed was probably running down the streets of Ammanar yelling my name out loud…yet again, the demons prove me right that their lot is a great smelly pile of cowardly maggots. After laying down the elven women's corpses, I immediately took off—literally; with my wings of course. I conjured them into existence; two angelic wings with a crimson-black plumage. They are, of course, not angel's wings. Angels' wings are all colored with light colors—white, sky blue, gold, pale pink—mine are an anomaly just like the rest of myself—but enough about my wings—and back to the chase.

I flew straight through the villa, turning intangible so as to help me get out quicker. When I finally passed through the villa's outer wall, I used transcendent sight and scanned the crowded street. There, running madly opposite the flow of most of the crowd, was Belial; fighting tooth and nail, not caring whether he knocked down those various beings he pushed out of the way. Ah…again I sniffed out the delicious scent of fear in the air. The idea of roasting Belial to a cinder gave me that same savage pleasure I had while reminiscing Halphas' fiery demise. Yes, I find it very satisfying to inflict upon my enemies a particularly agonizing end. It is an unfortunate trait you pick up after you spend two centuries of playing kill or be killed. You end up liking the deed. Ah…do forgive me please I just get so absorbed in my musings…

As I said, Belial was running like a spooked cow in the crowd. I, on the other hand, was flying; savoring both the cool wind & the anticipation before the kill itself. I had little to ask from the coward anyway. The questions would be quick, but his pain—and my pleasure, would be much longer. I caught up to the frantic half breed, seized him by the shoulders and lifted off. He struggled and squealed like a fearful rat in the claws of a hungry eagle—the metaphor so fits the moment back then. He couldn't shapeshift you see; my hands were charged with the same angelic magic my sword was. It inhibited him from using any of his power and also kept him feeling plenty of pain to keep him preoccupied.

I flew and flew, keeping the half blood in my grasp. He continued to squeal and shake but oh…the pain I believe just was too much for the sad bastard. I continued to fly until we reached a secluded, dead end. It was not easy. As I've said, Ammanar is a titanic place so it took me quite some time to find one. Before I landed on my feet, I threw Belial hard on the rock face in front of me. As he slid to the floor, I lengthened and sharpened the nails on my left hand; effectively turning them into claws which I used to grab the half nude Belial by the chest.

I held the coward high in the air by the skin of his chest for a moment before I brought him down to face level. "The scroll…I want it," I told the sweating, bleeding Belial. He stammered back, "Wh…what sc…scroll? I don't know what you're talking about!" all the while frightfully gazing at my eyes with his sickening yellow ones. As a reply, I caused my eyes to glow, exposing their psychedelic visage. Belial's breathing hitched; stunned, I believe by that revelation. You see, my eyes are my trademark feature and are well known to both transcendent races; and to some magical, but mortal ones.

"Ah…ah…th…the scroll…yes…err…" he stammered. I tightened my grip on chest to remind him that if he does not tell me, he will definitely die. He continued to sweat and whimper pathetically while he dangled bleeding from my clawed left arm. _This is bullshit. _I thought back then. I felt my frustration rising and spoke through gritted teeth.

"I will ask you one last time, you sick bastard. Where is the scroll?"

"Th…Thanatiel, I can't…I just can't…PLEASE! I'll d…die if I…I tell you!"

"Funny. They'll kill you? You realize that it is only because of that knowledge that you are still alive…I would've killed you sooner had you not known. I know that you know the truth. Don't force me to rake through your brains after I've splattered them over these walls. "

"PLEASE! PLEASE! I…I can't!"

"You have until the count of three before I roast you to oblivion—One"

"NO! NO! THANATIEL, HAVE MERCY!" he grabbed my arm pitifully as he said that.

"Two"

"THEY'LL KILL ME! THEY'LL KILL YOU! I AM TRYING TO PROTECT US BOTH!"


	3. Chapter 3

**V**

A split second before I was to say "three"; in my mind, I laughed at the remark. Kill him, yes, I am quite game for that. But kill me? Maybe if the big wigs themselves came down, perhaps…but instead they send goons to get me. You, friend, already have a good idea of what happens to those idiots.

Ah…I was wasting my time, I thought. I could find someone else and let this cringing, filthy coward burn.

"Th—" I never finished the word.

"ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT! I'LL TELL YOU WHERE IT IS!"

I let him drop to the floor and left him sprawled there.

"Excellent… where is it?"

"Scholomance…the Codex Umbris—the scroll you're looking for—is there."

I thought for a moment whether or not to kill him on the spot. Then again, I thought, Scholomance was a very large place. The fabled school of the dark arts was built like Ammanar, although on a smaller scale. I could spend days searching. Also, it would be much harder because of the complex enchantments that guard the ancient school's secrets. There wasn't much time to do with, so I decided.

"I won't kill you—"

"OH, THANK YOU! THANK YOU!—"

"—yet…"

His relieved smile comically slipped off his face like slime at that remark. He did not speak, so I continued my piece. "I may have some use for you, you see. Besides…those whom you serve will find out about your telling me where to find that scroll anyway. Naturally, you'll die when they do. I am giving you a bargain here," I said, "you'll live longer if you stay with me. Get the deal? I'll allow you to live as long as you help me in finding that codex. Be warned though—if I even get the smallest hint that you are double-crossing me, I will make sure your death will be slow and be the most agonizing experience you've ever had in your filthy five hundred years."

If it were possible, I think he went paler there than he already was—which was saying something as the half blood had pasty yellow-white skin already. The fool seemed to have lost his ability to speak as he was whimpering and sniveling like an overgrown toddler there on the rock face…"You'd better decide soon, Belial. I've waited two centuries for this and mind you, my patience has run dry…I can do this with or without you. I choose to have you only to do the task faster. So you'd better say whether you agree or not. Three counts again, my _friend_, three counts—either you blabber, or burn."

I then started counting, "One…"

He continued to cry…

"Two…"

I guess the cogs in his head started to function again as he frantically looked around and grabbed his bald head in confused terror.

"Thr—"

"OKAY! OKAY! I WILL DO IT! JUST—JUST DON'T KILL ME! PLEASE! NOT YET!" I smiled.  
_"_I'm glad that that got through your thick skull…an accord it is then. Until we find the scroll, you live.

Remember, when we do find it—and I'll always know when we do, you will die. Oh and one more thing,

I can't promise a painless death though…old habits die hard after all." I said playfully with a sinister wink. Whimper…whimper…cry…cry… he did—oh, what pathetic swine he was.

I exited Ammanar the following day. With me was a sniveling Belial, whom I was dragging about in the same angelic chains that once bound and burnt Halphas (a precautionary/motivational measure). The weeklong journey to Scholomance was already a tedious task on its own, since the legendary school of black magic was found further south. The terrain did not help either. On top of it all, it was made worse because of Belial whose ability to find misfortune seemed extraordinary. Within those seven days, I have had to save him many times(I would let him go to find nourishment as he, being half human cannot survive without his natural needs. Of course, I put a magical trace on Belial so as to keep my eye on him at all times, you can say); twice from falling into precipices, once from a dragon whose food he stole, thrice from a group of angry sprites whom he had somehow insulted, and once from snow elementals—the reason of which I never knew—all of which were much to my chagrin. Though I would have loved nothing more than to watch him die in a rather slow and particularly excruciating way, I wanted that scroll badly…so I kept him for as long as it had to…ah, how greed sometimes gets the better of us, as I would learn in time…

I arrived at the steps of Scholomance's ruins in an exceptionally foul mood. Both the time it took and also of Belial's aforementioned incidents along the way sent my temper flaring. The fact that he was still alive was not so much my doing as it was a miracle; the stress from both those rather unfortunate events and also the spiritual agony the chains induced, I think, began to take their toll on my demon captive. Don't mistake me—you should know by now that I did not care the least for the half demon's health—Let us move on

As with Ammanar, I paused first to take in the sheer sight of the ancient school's vast ruins.

Situated near the top of Gerlachovský štít, (The commonly described location of Scholomance, near Sibiu, is but one part of the massive complex.) the cyclopean structure was similar to Ammanar in that it was built not just on the mountains but also within it. That part though has long since collapsed and thus, inaccessible. Unlike Ammanar which had no malevolent aura I could sense (except for the arcane echoes of the Great Elven War), Scholomance's ruins were reeking with the fester of dark magic—the allure was intoxicatingly seductive…during those moments I could swear that there was a voice whispering in my ears; promising me of untold power, riches and fortune…Though it was tempting, I've learned enough in two centuries that a pact with demons is always one to be regretted—what do the demons have to do with Scholomance, you ask? They built it, of course, or at least inspired their mortal agents to build it for them. You see, Scholomance was the Devil's—the leader of all demonkind—training ground for his mortal acolytes. I'll elaborate more on history shortly…

Like Ammanar, Scholomance's days of glory are long gone. Unlike Ammanar though, which is still vibrant with the living, Scholomance is dead. The corrosive life-draining aura projecting from the bleak structure caused by centuries of black rituals, experiments and summonings was overwhelming even to a being such as myself—I felt myself weakening just as a human would is he or she were placed within a smoggy area. Just as smog is poison to the lungs, the grim echoes were poison to the sprit.

Yet for all its treachery, the evil radiating within also seemed like a drug—dangerous and yet so...addicting. But I was no fool, I knew the consequences if I were to succumb to Scholomance's dangerously tempting gloom.

The entrance into the abandoned edifice was nothing more than an enormous hole with melted and burnt edges. After I kicked Belial through the hole and stepped inside, I felt the full force of the evil resonating inside the ancient school. I had to use angelic magic to protect my mind at that point. Still, I could feel the acidic nature of the echoes, gnawing slowly and painfully into my being. It was like having a parasitic beast eating me from the inside out—except that it threatened to devour my sanity rather than my body. On the other hand, the dark magic seeping through the place like a noxious gas was strengthening the demonic mongrel I dragged about...ah, what an irony...

As we ploughed on into the lightless ruins, I strengthened the astral barrier which protected my mind in order to cope with the growing evil that threatened to consume me. We were guided only by my extra sensory perception and the light of a floating ball of fire I had conjured. The light didn't penetrate as far as I expected; as if the darkness inside was unnatural—then again, that might have been the case. I could not see very far because of that preternatural shadow. Whenever I caught glimpses of the bloodstained ruined walls and floor, I could imagine the horrors which had occurred there centuries ago.

From what little I've read about Scholomance (the number of chronicles about it is sparse you see), the school was founded at some point in the third century from a pact made by the Devil and a cult of demon worshippers called the Solomonari—think of them as the black magic practicing version of the Illuminati Brotherhood. The Solomanari at that time were dwindling rapidly in number due to their fundamental flaw of promoting internecine strife. Those who remained correctly predicted that if they did not find a way to mass-recruit new initiates, they would eventually fade away into the darkest depths of history. So their ruling council decided to found "a school" where they can "teach" neophytes the ways of the Solomonari; thus, the idea that eventually became Scholomance was born.

In order to speed up the construction and to ensure protection from their enemies, the Solomonari made a deal with the Devil himself for demonic aid. In return, the Devil asked that the school be made under his vision and be taught with his doctrines. The Solomonari did not dare argue; after all, the Devil is God to them. I sometimes stop to wonder at just how deluded they were…

So they made an accord. Low rank demons were sent to aid the mortal agents of the Devil in construction of the complex. With magic and sheer combined strength, demon and mortal together ploughed their way through the Carpathians, finishing construction in as little as fifty years.

To "officially open" their "school", the Solomonari held a ten day festival of sin and vices in honor of their master where they reveled in an orgy of torture, prostitution and death which would make the Marquis De Sade green with envy. That point marked the beginning of a black chapter in mortal history.

To become a part of their organization, there is only one rule: survive the entrance rites. However, these were not for the weak—around nine tenths of all yearly initiates died in rather gruesome ways or are driven incurably insane. The entrance rites make modern hazing rites of the most cruel of fraternities seem like tea parties as the initiate is subject to countless unimaginable tortures of body, mind and soul. If the initiate makes it through alive—however barely or horrendously scarred—he or she was accepted as a member of the Solomanari.

And so, they did as they pleased—"collecting" new members from select groups and teaching them the absurd ideology that the universe is founded on anarchy and that an evil life is the best way of enjoying it. To give you an idea of their ideology, have you ever wondered why the Black Plague reached such virulence? The Solomonari, you see, were having an experiment of sorts back then. They specially bred and magically modified the sickness, and then they spread the mutant disease using rats. You ask what the ends to their madness were. Simple; it was supposedly a social experiment—an experiment on the effects of mass panic on the populace of Europe at that time. To summarize what had happened due to the advancement of the Black Death I advise you to look up Pieter Bruegel the Elder's painting, _The Triumph of Death._ Yes…that should be quite satisfactory.

The reign of the Solomonari went on and on; spreading madness, vice and all manner of undesirable things throughout humanity at the same time allowing an easier way for demons to enter the world. I've read that during those times angels had quite a workout trying to stem the flow of demonic filth that was crossing over to this plane. That would have gone on and on until a very ambitious "project" of theirs backfired. Remember that massive hole that Belial and I went through? Well...that was one of the effects of that particular endeavor. You see, they tried to open a _permanent_ portal that connects this realm to that of Hell. Their hubris though became their downfall. They were so full of themselves that they thought that they could do anything—ah—I remain amazed by their delusion. The negative energies coming forth from their portal were so powerful that the portal itself couldn't take it.

As the portal was reaching critical state, they turned to the Devil also known as Satan, their _lord and master,_ to deliver them from death. Ah...but the Devil remained true to his being...for in the end, treachery is the way of evil...he shrugged off their pleas and replied that they would be of greater service in death than in life. The moment that the devil left, the portal finally could not take it anymore, imploding within itself and causing a psychic shockwave so powerful it disintegrated the minds and even the physical remains of all those within the school. The corrosive effects of demonic magic though, continued to warp and twist the remains of Scholomance even after so many centuries. It was so severe that the reverberations of the disaster and all the other evil deeds done before Scholomance's destruction resonated until now. Thus the Solomonari became extinct as an order soon afterward as long as history is concerned—the Renaissance started shortly after that event. It doesn't take brains to know how that happened, my friend, so I won't bother to explain...ah...history sometimes takes my interest away from the story... I apologize, dear friend...I just do love history…yes, where were we?

I was saying, I was wandering cautiously around the bleak ruins of Scholomance with the half breed Belial chained at my side. We were deep within the complex then. Even I was unsure where exactly we were, as a result, I became frustrated. It was not because of fear—I haven't felt fear in nearly two centuries—instead, it was because I am used to knowing exactly where I am at any given time or place. It's a beneficial side effect of having a powerfully transcendent mind. Unfortunately, Scholomance's corrosive aura, which was constantly edging against my astral shield, was also disrupting my sense of position and time—my spatial sense only worked to let me sense obstacles, not know where I'm walking on. For all I knew, we might have been walking on the ceiling then…after all, dead as it may seem, the dark magic of Scholomance gave it an eerie sort of undeath…

As we scanned the areas which we passed (with Belial whimpering in fright), I heard the sound of something moving rapidly in the shadows. At first, I ignored it. I remember saying in my mind, "What creature could dare take me in this rotten hole?" and so, we continued to walk. I had the feeling that something was stalking us. Somewhere in the immense labyrinth was a creature—or creatures hiding in that preternatural shadow watching—waiting. We continued to move on, going inside numerous rooms—torture chambers with bones still clinging to unspeakable instruments of pain, alchemy laboratories whose floors were littered with shattered crystal containers and whose walls had numerous burns and stains from sinister experiments, divination chambers within which eerie, cracked crystal globes still floated by some sort of magic that withstood the test of time, and decrepit shrines where demonic summonings once took place.

Eventually we found ourselves in a particularly cavernous chamber which was filled with numerous rotting desks and shelves. It dawned on me that this may be the fabled Library of Scholomance. It was rumored that ALL of the most evil works in mortal history were found here—

where the Solomonari would read them for their twisted intentions. My curiosity was aroused here…perhaps I can spare a moment or two to see what mortals are really capable of, I thought at that time. Belial started to break a cold sweat for some reason at that point; whimpering, shivering and sweating like a frightened child—I would've pitied the mongrel had he not been this ugly, treacherous half demon. I got fed up with his shenanigans and commanded the magical chains binding him to wrap around his mouth. I then kicked him to the floor and conjured massive golden stakes with which I used to fasten the chains holding him into the ground. "Move, and you die." I said, pointing my finger to his frightened, hideous face.

I walked about the aisles, scanning the decrepit books in the ruined shelves. There were all sorts of sinister titles in them: grimoires, black bibles, torture manuals and a lot more. As I was picking up a book with the title (I will translate this for your convenience)_ The High Order of Daemons, _a book concerning Hell's hierarchy, I heard a commotion from where I left Belial. I dropped the book and teleported back where I found a bound and struggling Belial being dragged away quickly into the darkness by a swift, humanoid creature.

**VI**

I flew after the odd pair throughout the cathedral-like inside of the library, using my wings to gain speed over the creature that had Belial in its grasp. I could not use transcendent sight for some reason in Scholomance—perhaps some enchantment in the structure prevented me from doing so—so I could not identify what his abductor was aside from the fact that it was of vaguely human shape.

I continued to chase them until the creature leapt into a narrow crevasse; dragging Belial with it.

I narrowed my wings and shot through the narrow crevasse and gaining more speed, finally, I managed to catch up with the half demon's abductor. I turned my fingers into talons and seized the creature by the shoulders (much like what I did whilst catching Belial himself). The creature screeched and howled in pain, fury (and hunger, I believe) as I raised it and Belial high up in the air briefly and then I let the creature—and the half demon it still clasped— fall down to the ground.

I heard the creature yowling as it fell thirty feet from the air along with its supposed prey. Two loud and rather crunchy thuds told me that it was time to see whether or not the odd couple survived—

they did all too well as I was to discover. Belial suffered only a few fractures (a venial injury to creatures like myself and he) yet whimpered as if he suffered a mortal wound. I went back down to the ground and took a better look at Belial's assailant. The creature which had taken him turned out to be a Moroi—a kind of vampire native to Eastern Europe (yes, there are many varieties of vampire). I observed it for a moment, taking in its physical features into mind. The Moroi was skeletally thin, with extremely elongated limbs and digits and dead gray skin pockmarked by blackish green veins. Its hideous face was gaunt, almost fleshless, with two oversized sallow reptilian eyes, barely any nose, pointed batlike ears and a gaping mouth lined with razorlike teeth. It snarled at me and attempted to leap but its two long, broken legs—which were spouting green-black blood—could not provide support and caused the Moroi to flop back to the ground howling and screeching in purest agony and rancor.

Moroi could speak, as I've learned from previous encounters with its kind, but this one seemed uncooperative and continued to lash at me with its taloned hands while screeching like a rabid dog.

I sighed. It was sad seeing the vampire trying to leap only to fail and fall on the ground like some grotesque satire of a landed fish. At least it wasn't a cowardly beast like the bound half demon whimpering behind me. I was having half a mind to disintegrate the vampire but then my reasoning won and I decided instead to interrogate it—but first I had to restrain the Moroi. Summoning the same kind of mystical pain and truth inducing chains that held the sniveling half demon, I commanded these to wrap around the Moroi as I once did with Belial.

I guess you're getting bored now listening to me chain my latest victim. For that I'm very sorry, friend, the enchantments imbibed in those chains are just too useful. It's become a habit of sorts whenever I seek to subdue but not destroy an enemy. Oh yes, I chained the battered vampire up. Though it wasn't a demon, per se, the magic present in its being was similar to demons and so the chains imbibed with holy energy caused the creature agony and would force it to speak the truth. It was obvious at that point as it started screeching and howling in agony as it struggled against the indestructible chains I conjured. I decided to try my luck once more when the vampire quieted down to an exhausted grunting.

"Struggle all you want. It is of no use against these." I asked quietly

"WHAT DO YOU WANT?" the creature snapped.

"I need only information. You need not lose your putrid life( I used this in the loosest sense, as it was undead and thus, functionally dead)…you need only speak and I shall free you once I have gotten what I want."

"WHY SHOULD I TELL YOU, HALF-BLOOD? YES I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE!"

I could feel rage welling up inside of me as the Moroi said that. Normally I would keep my head cool in this kind of situation. Either the deathly air of Scholomance was influencing my emotional state then or I was merely incredibly impatient. The next thing I remember was speaking through gritted teeth and sending a fresh surge of angelic magic through those chains—causing them to flare up and make the vampire wrapped inside squeal in agony.

"I don't think you're in a position to pose any deals," I sent another surge of angelic magic through the chains, "As you can see, you're in the same predicament as my friend Belial here," I motioned to the sobbing half demon on the ground near us, "who could have been your lunch had I not saved him. Under normal circumstances, I would have gladly let you tear dear Belial apart into a million wet, red pieces but these are…extraordinary conditions which require his…ah, services under threat of annihilation. You face the same ultimatum from me."

As I expected, the Moroi stopped struggling though it still had a face loathe with venom and eyes that wished me to burn in the Nine Hells. Nevertheless, I took that as a sign that it was listening.

I spoke again. "Now that I have your attention, I shall make this conversation brief. All you need to do is talk or die. Tell the truth and I will spare you. Lie and you burn. Do you know where inside this damned place this Codex Umbris is hidden?"

Silence. My patience was all but gone. I held back the temptation to incinerate the Moroi and instead told him the same threat I did to Belial before.

"You have until the count of three to answer, my friend. One."

I need not had counted to two as the vampire replied.

"Codex Umbris—Basilica di Lux—I do not know exactly where—but I have heard it's found there—

NOW, RELEASE ME!"

And let it go I did. Yes, very out of character you say? Well no, not really. I may be cruel but I am fair (except to angels and demons of course…they are the exceptions.). A bargain was a bargain and in exchange for a honest answer, I let the Moroi go. It dragged itself off into the darkness with its arms with a last loathing snarl at me and Belial. The sound of the lion-like growling from the vampire made the already cringing half-demon cry out loud. I was getting visions of a disintegrating demon body within those chains back then but sanity—or insanity—whatever it was, pulled me back from making those visions a reality…much to my regret later on.  
Basilica di Lux—"The Cathedral of the Light", in English, ah...I should have known at that time it _should_ be there, I thought. Where else could that damn codex be but in the most "holy of holies" in Scholomance? The Basilica di Lux…ah…I still laugh at that name to this day. Not only because of the phonetics that makes it sound like "Basilica Deluxe" but because of the nigh stupid irony present. "The Cathedral of the Light", indeed, when it is one of the darkest places in all of existence, named after the devil himself—Lucifer, the _Lightbringer._ It was also the very place where the Solomonari's portal was supposed to have been made.

To prepare for the journey, I strengthened the astral barrier of my mind. I expected that the bleak echoes to be more potent and destructive the closer I went to ground zero of the Solomonari's fall. I did not need to worry about Belial despite the bleak energies infusing him with strength. The chains that held him were working at optimum efficiency. All I needed to do was drag him about the ground—which I did for the next two days, I believe, you see to this day I never knew how long we spent looking for the codex although I am quite sure it did not take more than a week or so. My sense of time was disrupted within Scholomance by the same aura that disrupted my sense of position, you see, but none of that matters now…on with the story shall we?

My suspicions concerning the grim psychic echoes increasing as we went closer to the Basilica di Lux were correct—too correct in fact. After those two-or-so days of ceaseless searching, with run-ins from other hideous, filthy vermin that lurked and thrived in the preternatural shadow of the eldritch complex, I at last discovered the Basilica. I merely had to look—a word which I use in the loosest sense here— for the place where the darkness that was trying to chew into my sanity was most intense. It was not too hard a task. Only the size again of the place hindered my progress. I merely need read the various glyphs carved onto the ancient walls of Scholomance and "followed the scent", so to speak, of the psychic rot to its source, avoiding various traps and obstacles along the way.

The Basilica di Lux was a sight to behold as I was to find out as I entered one of the Basilica's seven entrances. Contrary to what I thought it would look like, that is ruined and consumed in complete darkness as was the rest of Scholomance, it was instead, strangely, full of light and utterly pristine. Quite a shock for me at that time it was; for one thing, because the nigh ghostly blue-white light that consumed the place was apparently sourceless. The colossal complex resembled a massive bowl, with an improbably long and wide white marble spiral staircase that ran along a significant portion of the cascading, concave walls (of course, I didn't bother to take these…I have wings after all. As for Belial, well you can say I kept him "hanging by a thread") the lower part of the complex resembled the Roman Coliseum only around five times larger and made completely of black marble and obsidian so meticulously shaped and polished that they seemed utterly flawless while the ceiling was made of polished obsidian where, a massive golden symbol that resembled a stylized chalice with an X running through it and a V inscribed in between the two lines that made up the chalice like shape's stand—The Sigil of Lucifer—was emblazoned dead center of the vaulted, round ceiling .

Inside the arena-like structure was a massive plaza made of obsidian tiles of the same quality as the surrounding "arena". There were 5 golden obelisks inscribed with ancient runes surrounding a raised circular stone platform in the very center of the floor where a massive altar of gold stood, overshadowed by an even larger statue. Around twelve feet tall, it was made mostly of black marble, with the lower part was composed of a thronelike structure made of numerous intertwined serpents with emerald eyes and golden fangs all sprouting from a common point from the floor, giving the image of a maleficent tree with snakes for branches; as if the throne was not sinister enough, seated upon that throne was _Le génie du mal _himself. Nude, except for a flowing black marble toga, a golden scepter ending in a small, curiously shaped morning star and a gold crown adorned with jewels representing the four classical elements—rubies for fire, sapphires for water, diamonds for air and emeralds for earth—all held in the hollow mouths of embossed ghastly faces, the young man reclining on the throne of snakes was built like Michelangelo's _David_— with a body like the mythical Adonis and face of impossible beauty that was looking down upon the golden altar—except with two huge draconic wings sprouting from the figure's back.

Where admiration would flow through ones veins if one were to gaze on the _David_, horror and fear were all that one would feel whilst gazing into this statue's face whose name has probably been lost to the annals of Scholomance's grim history. The expression on the androgynous face of the fallen archangel Lucifer was frightening—with eyebrows knotted together, seraphic, sunken stone eyes and unsettling smile deviously proud, cold and almost devoid of humanity, all the while gazing sinisterly at the altar below him . It was beautiful and horrendous at the same time—physically the statue was perfect, every detail of it was meticulously observed to the letter, even the tiny glittering scales on the bodies of the serpents were individually carved with utmost precision—it truly would have been something to behold if not for the horror it produced in one's mind. But it was not the statue or the altar that was the very nexus of the eldritch shadowy rot that was boring into my skull, in fact it was the seemingly benign crystal mechanism situated directly in between the statue and the golden altar.

It was a strange thing...at least 10 feet in diameter, composed of 6 flawless diamond rings engraved with golden runes on their rims, each slowly rotating in opposite directions in per ring, all surrounding a disc shaped structure with an onyx version of Lucifer's Sigil embossed directly at its center, seemingly collinear to its giant twin engraved many stories above on the Basilica di Lux's ceiling. The whole thing looked like a bizarre translucent bulls-eye on the whole but I knew better. Through a human's eyes, the thing looked harmless; in the eyes of a being such as myself, the crystal clockwork structure was a fracture in the very fabric of reality. In transcendent sight (I freely translate here to you, my friend, for even I cannot exactly describe the appearance of such a phenomenon that is beyond your understanding), the nexus was like an iridescent bullet hole through a car's windshield. Reality there was literally shattered and I could see the grim energies from Hell gushing out of it as blood would from an open wound. These bleak energies appeared to me as sentient, corrosive smoke, filling the entirety of the complex from top to bottom and seeping through the seven cavernous entrances to infect the rest of the damned school.


	4. Chapter 4

**VII**

If you, with your human eyes, looked at that scene you would've seen nothing peculiar other than the ghostly blue light illuminating the entire place. Not that you could anyway…the concentration of the eldritch psychic fester gushing out of the nexus was so great there that any being without sufficient psychic protection would be corrupted and driven insane, if not killed outright, immediately. My astral barrier held, though I was in palpable pain by then. Akin to an exceptionally bad headache I say. Strangely, Belial was quiet…too quiet in fact. I expected him to continue to squeal and writhe against his chains more than ever now that I was nearest to my goal…you see, despite the fact that the energies emanating from the nexus were fogging my transcendent sight, I could still make out enough to know where the possible hiding places of the Codex might be.

I cannot describe exactly how seeing through transcendent eyes is like…for one thing I doubt you'll even understand, my human friend. But since the description of the power of transcendent sight is part of this tale's essence, think of transcendent sight as infra-red vision except that transcendent sight picks up differences in magical signatures, revealing anomalies which would otherwise be unseen/undetected by any other means (note though, transcendent sight is not limited to that function…there are many, many more things it can do, a lot of which are simply too difficult, even for me, to explain. I am merely describing HOW I utilized that happy power at that time). Well, just imagine seeing through infra-red and finding your vision obscured by a shadowy fog…that's the closest approximation I can give you. Now, like in infra red where hotter areas appear brighter than the cooler ones, those areas which have different magical signatures appear differently from the rest as I've mentioned earlier.

Though it was a bit hard to discern at first, I found the place where the Codex Umbris was hidden. Apparently, it was within the chest of the statue. I know what you're thinking; what with my vast strength I merely smashed the graven image to bits and took the scroll for myself. Well, in this instance(at least the bit about punching the statue), you may give yourself a pat on the back for I DID try to destroy it by that simplest(and crudest, I daresay) of means. Unfortunately though, I might as well have punched air. The image did not break. Only then did I realize(and what a fool I have been to not have realized sooner) that the thing had protective enchantments of extraordinary power. Not even the reality rift right in front of it nor the ravages of time seemed to have affected it. That struck me as an ominous sign, along with the fact that Belial, though bound and helpless, was silent like the dead and watching me with a manic, and stranger still, hopeful expression in his sallow, bloodshot eyes. Little did I know that I would find out exactly why soon enough.

It took me some time to decipher exactly what had to be done so as to get through the eldritch spells guarding the scroll which I had searched for all these years; after all, it's hard enough already what with those bleak energies bleeding from the nexus beneath my feet. I won't elaborate how I deciphered the means—you wouldn't understand anyway and I have little patience for such matters—though of course, I will tell you how the scroll is to be obtained after that little bit of investigation. It seemed as though demonic reputation for finesse and slyness is overrated…a sacrifice of blood? I could think of nothing more crude or stereotypical as a tribute. Alas, it was the only way. I conjured a knife and used it to slit my wrist—no it's not lethal at all to me, remember that I am not human where such a venial injury can have such fatal results and it healed immediately afterwards anyway—so that my silvery blood flowed out and dripped into the crystal mechanism, where the tribute was to be deposited according to my understanding of the enchantment.

At first, absolutely nothing happened and I was momentarily perplexed. Then the rotating rings surrounding the disc with the Sigil of Lucifer rotated faster and faster and as it did, I noticed the central disc itself slowly turning. It did 7 complete turns and then suddenly the ground beneath me violently trembled. My gaze snapped to the ground beneath me (coincidentally where the dimensional fracture was), prepared to take wing if it suddenly split open. The tremors abruptly stopped but I kept my eyes down on the nexus. That tremor was of magical origin after all, and I expected something worse to happen afterwards. After a few minutes, nothing happened as far as I was concerned, and that confused me. Even more perplexing was the fact that all throughout the shaking, Belial had not uttered a sound—he being a cowardly, despicable mongrel, I would've expected to howl and thrash about in terror. Nonetheless, my curiosity got the better of me and dulled my senses to these ominous signs. Satisfied that the worst had passed(and oh, how I rue that thought), I looked up again with transcendent sight and looked at the black marble statue. To my shock, the scroll was no longer in it. I was on the verge of destroying the entire Basilica when suddenly an odd magical signature ticked off my senses. It was coming off from the golden altar behind me, so I whipped around and saw that the altar, previously with no anomalies in its magical signature, was now sticking out like a sore thumb. The entire thing was glowing (a term I use for convenience here, as it is the closest approximation of what I saw through transcendent sight) with the same kind of magic the scroll was within the statue!

I approached the golden altar with caution and anticipation—forgetting that this was perhaps a trap—and laid my hand on it. It was no longer solid. The golden surface seemed to have become a gel like liquid trapped in a fixed shape, deforming where I inserted my hand and bouncing back in shape when I relinquished it. It did not harm nor stick to my hand in any way, however. Convinced that this was safe to do and the scroll was definitely inside, I reached in deeper a second time, my transcendent sight unable to penetrate the outer surface of the altar, I resorted to feeling (with some help what with my ability to extend my fingers indefinitely) where the scroll was within. I assume that I spent around half an hour searching the interior of the massive golden altar when I finally grabbed a soft, cylindrical object from within. Triumphant glee exploded within me and I laughed out loud maniacally despite myself. If there was anything that would've made even happier at that point it's that Belial started to thrash about again in terror. Ah…how I waited for this, I thought, already imagining Belial as a smoldering carcass as I opened the scroll grasped within my hands. I had expected paragraphs written in tiny letters or glyphs of some long forgotten alphabet so I was dumbfounded when I saw that it was empty but for a Bible verse written in English.

_Job 38:11_

_Thus far shall you come, but no farther_

Almost immediately after I read the last word did I realize I had been played for a fool, yet it was too late, as in that very moment from a bright light that suddenly appeared high above in the cavernous ceiling of the Basilica di Lux did a battalion of armed angels drop forth, encircling me as a pack of ravenous wolves would a lone sheep.

**VIII**

I awoke to find myself chained up(with enchanted chains of the kind I used to subdue demon enemies no less), in an incredible state of agony and being dragged by two armored, grim faced Seraphim—one of the two main kinds of angel—with their shimmering, bronze skin and pupil-less eyes blazing with white fire. It was pain as I've never known it before; so much that I could not even muster the will to hold my ground and fight. It's quite ironic really, as most things are, but yes I am vulnerable to angelic magic. It is not lethal to me outright unlike to pure demons, but angelic magic of great power can cause me agony like it was back then. Ah…it was pain that scourged not just the body but also the soul, as if white hot knives were slicing into my very essence. I could not see or even think properly from such pain. Whenever I could open my eyes, I could glimpse a nigh-cloudless blue sky with seven suns of varying brightness and size blazing overhead; whatever sensation in my legs felt that I was being dragged about a hard, smooth surface; whatever sense of hearing I could muster heard distant, faint, but joyous laughter. All this led me to the conclusion that I was in Heaven, domain of Angels.

Yes, curious it would seem…Heaven should be a place of tranquility, of happiness, and so on, yet there I was chained up and being dragged across some sort of road leading to a palace-like stronghold of mountainlike proportions. I could barely even think at that time…the agony from the chains was shattering my concentration with the same ease a thrown rock would break a pane of thin glass. From those miniscule instances of thought, I recalled what had happened seemingly moments before I awoke in chains.

Immediately after the legion of angels descended all around me in the Basilica di Lux, I conjured my preferred weapon to aid me in the battle that would inevitably follow: a mystical spear six-and-a-half feet long, forged (I use this in a loose sense as I conjured the weapon out of thin air) from an enchanted silvery metal of my own design with identical, ornate, particularly long sword-like blades on both ends. It was perfect for fighting both single & multiple enemies, powerfully imbibed with demon, angelic, _and_ elemental (this plane's natural magic) energies so as to be flexible and effective against any opponent. The weapon was also literally a work of art (if you recall, I prize artfulness in anything and everything that I do) as is wielding it. It takes precision, strength, speed and above all, _finesse_, to handle such a weapon. Without such qualities, a double ended spear such as that which I wield with both enjoyment and, pardon me for my seeming immodesty, unparalleled skill, would be cumbersome at the very least and at worst, be more hazardous to the user than to the enemy.

4


End file.
